


moon blooms in night’s arms

by endlesshydrangea (bloominsummer)



Series: kiss me under the mistletoe 2020 [9]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Polyamory, Soonyoung Is NOT Nervous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/endlesshydrangea
Summary: The one thing Soonyoung didn’t account for when he entered into a four-way relationship is that he’d have three different sets of parents to greet come the holidays. Impressing one pair is hard enough, butthree? At this rate, he is going to flunk one of the most important tests in his life: the in-laws exam.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Jeon Wonwoo/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Series: kiss me under the mistletoe 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042560
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	moon blooms in night’s arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alaixna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaixna/gifts).



> also dedicated to @wheredidyouugoo on twt :]
> 
> work is set in the same universe as [three’s a crowd, four’s a party](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768760) but can be read independently! all you need to know is it's their first holiday season together as boyfriends~
> 
> title is taken from Alexandra Vasiliu’s poem:  
>  _I want to bloom_  
>  _in your arms,_  
>  _like the moon blooms_  
>  _in the night’s arms._

* * *

**Junhui**

* * *

Junhui’s father is a lost cause the moment Soonyoung sees him in the arrival hall of Incheon International Airport, but that’s been expected. Fengjun stands closely behind his father, somewhat slimmer and taller than Soonyoung had seen through Junhui’s phone screen. He bears a striking resemblance to Junhui, and someone without prior knowledge of their age gap would have guessed that they were twins if they see them hugging each other like this.

After the brothers separate, Jihoon moves forward to shake Mr Wen’s hand. Wonwoo lines up behind him, an obedient pupil following in his master’s footsteps, and Soonyoung lets himself go last. He’s not exactly _eager_ to say his greeting in broken Mandarin. Don’t get him wrong, he did take lessons for a couple of months to prepare for this exact moment. It’s just. Language apparently doesn’t come easy to him the way it does for Jihoon.

And Wonwoo, well, Wonwoo is unhelpful in this situation. He’s been fluent long before he met Junhui because his parents wanted him to be proficient in the second most-spoken language or something like that. Wonwoo’s entirely unhelpful, because that leaves Soonyoung as the only person out of the loop.

It’s fine!

Soonyoung is completely fine, even as Junhui’s father gazes at him expectantly, having been greeted properly twice by the ones that came before him. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have come last after all, because at this point the expectation’s built, right? He introduces himself (this much he can do) and says something that’s meant to be a welcome but is clearly not what he intended it to be, judging from the surprise flashing in Mr Wen’s eyes.

Junhui immediately speaks over him to rectify his error, his speech rapid enough that Soonyoung can barely catch a single word. He sweeps the mistake under the rug so fast, Soonyoung’s not even sure what he’s said wrong.

Still, he is _fine_.

“It’s okay,” Fengjun says gently in Korean when Soonyoung misses the joke for the nth time on the car ride to their hotel. They’re both sitting at the backseat, and the younger reaches over to pat Soonyoung’s thigh in sympathy. “You’ll learn eventually. Bit by bit. It takes time.”

There’s a bright grin that comes with the reassurance, and Soonyoung’s struck again with how similar to Junhui he is. Not just in terms of their features, but also their ability to make anyone believe in their words and the power behind the wattage of their smiles. 

For the first half of the trip, Fengjun’s kind enough to provide Soonyoung with live translation for the conversation that is happening around but neglects to include him. Then Soonyoung feels bad about making him do such things, so he kindly cuts Fengjun loose of his tedious responsibility.

The sun is setting on the distant horizon, orange bleeding into blue, a natural mismatch. Wonwoo sits behind the wheel with his hands religiously kept at 9 and 3, the cargo he’s carrying entirely too precious for him to lose focus on the road. An Andy Lau album from the 1990s that Jihoon’s chosen plays faintly in the background. Soonyoung looks out the car window as the chatters drown out his thoughts.

He makes it through carrying the luggages into the hotel room and dinner afterwards on autopilot mode, only snapping out of his self-induced trance when they drop Fengjun off at his mom’s place.

As they’re waiting by the car for their boyfriends to come out of the house, Wonwoo brushes strands of hair out of Soonyoung’s face and says, “Junhui’s dad asked if you were the quiet one out of us four,” with a small chuckle that bothers him much more than it should.

“Imagine how surprised I was to hear him say that,” he continues, gentle thumbs caressing Soonyoung’s jaw, slightly rounded from the holiday fat he gained.

“At least you understand him when he’s talking to you,” Soonyoung answers in a manner that’s far too curt for his usual demeanour.

Wonwoo catches it in an instant, worry bleeding into his face and a question appearing at the tip of his tongue; an ask for clarification. But before he can say anything, Jihoon walks out the door and goes straight for Soonyoung, practically shoving Wonwoo out of his way. He ignores the offended yelp Wonwoo lets out and kisses Soonyoung slow and deep against the passenger door.

His lips taste like consolation.

Soonyoung kisses him back. The alternative to accepting Jihoon’s pity kisses is coming clean to Wonwoo that he is, in fact, not entirely fine about Junhui’s father not having the best impression of him. To say that out loud is as good as admitting that he’s self-absorbed, and this coming week isn’t about him alone. It’s about all four of them getting in the good graces of the others’ parents. Sure, Soonyoung’s struggling with Junhui side of the equation, but who's to say Jihoon won’t struggle with Wonwoo’s parents in a couple of days?

So Soonyoung collects Jihoon’s unspoken affection that coats his tongue, offering his own encouragement for the challenge that awaits Jihoon in the future.

* * *

**Wonwoo**

* * *

As it turns out, Jihoon did _not_ struggle with Wonwoo’s parents. Not even for a single heartbeat. Neither does Junhui, whose natural charm works wonders for him in the department of impressing the generation before theirs. Soonyoung doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed by that.

Like their firstborn son, Wonwoo’s parents are avid historians slash classical music enthusiasts. It is all so convenient that their post-dinner talk somehow ventured into Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, a production that despite its initial failure becomes one of the world’s most popular ballets. Even more convenient than that, Jihoon just happens to know how to play Dance of the Little Swans from the top of his head _and_ there’s a piano in the living room that’s mostly left unused since the Jeon sons moved out of the house for college.

The song’s probably a minute and a half long, yet by the time the final note exits the air surrounding them, the entire household is mesmerised by Jihoon’s talent. Soonyoung can’t blame anyone for that, since he knows fully well how potent a spell that sight is: Jihoon sitting at the piano, fingers moving fluidly across the keyboard, his eyes fully closed as he loses himself in the music.

He is, without a doubt, as beautiful as the piece he played.

“That was really great, Jihoon-ah,” Wonwoo’s mother offers, clapping her hands politely.

Soonyoung sees a hint of pink blossoming across Jihoon’s pale cheeks as he replies, “Thank you.”

“What about you, Soonyoung?”

Oh. Soonyoung blinks multiple times. Was that sentence directed at him? He doesn’t register that Wonwoo’s father is asking him a question until Wonwoo’s elbow subtly digs into the flesh of his waist.

“Any talents you care to share with this household on this wonderful evening?” comes the second prompt, after Soonyoung’s brain fails to address the first one.

“Ah…” he trails off, awkward. It’s not that he doesn’t want to share, it’s that he doesn’t think anything he has to offer will be half as interesting as Jihoon’s impromptu performance. “I dance.”

“Soonyoung can sing too,” Junhui quips in a light breath, much to Soonyoung’s horror.

He wants to clamp a hand over his boyfriend's mouth, but Junhui is sitting all the way across the room and his gaze is fixed entirely on Wonwoo’s parents, so Soonyoung is also rendered unable to throw him warning signals.

“He sounds like an angel, really. In the morning he’d be in the kitchen humming a tune and I never know whether it’s the smell of bacon or his voice that gets me out of bed.”

Wonwoo snorts. “It’s definitely the bacon.”

“I was trying to be romantic!” gasps Junhui, throwing his arms in front of his chest in a gesture of faux-offence.

He quietly hopes that Junhui’s exaggerated response is enough to steer the conversation away from the previous topic, but as Soonyoung’s rotten luck would have it, that isn’t the case.

“Would you sing us something?” the lady of the house asks him with a kind smile, one that leaves him no room to refuse.

Soonyoung suppresses a defeated sigh, because that would be rude and it would take Wonwoo weeks to forgive him for it, then he nods to show his agreement. He feels Wonwoo’s hand coming up to his back, rubbing up and down his spine as an expression of both _you got this_ and _thank you, Soonyoungie._ There’s nothing Soonyoung wants more than to melt into the couch and cuddle up onto Wonwoo’s side, but he has work to do.

“Come here,” Jihoon pats the space on the piano bench, right next to him. “We’ll sing the song I taught you. Remember?”

“Which.” He stands up from his seat with Wonwoo’s help. As he makes his way toward Jihoon, Junhui flashes him a winning smile. The corners of his eyes crinkle with a great amount of pride and Soonyoung wordlessly prays he’s deserving of it. “Which one?”

Jihoon moves aside to accommodate for Soonyoung’s presence, fingers curling and flexing across the black and white keys. “Downpour.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you,” Jihoon whispers, a split second before he begins playing.

The candid, unprovoked confession hits Soonyoung as hard as the first time he was on the receiving end of it. Although Jihoon’s words were quiet enough that only the two of them could hear them, Soonyoung is a hundred per cent sure that Junhui and Wonwoo’s hearts echo theirs at this moment.

He opens his mouth and sings, calling forth the angel Junhui believes resides within.

* * *

**Jihoon**

* * *

Soonyoung offers to help with the dishes after their weekend brunch at Jihoon’s childhood home. Upon announcing that the salmon in their stomachs was actually his own catch, Jihoon’s stepfather started herding them to the back of the house to show them his fishing gears.

“Let me show you the rods and the reels and of course, the apparels!” he had exclaimed while Jihoon fondly shook his head behind him.

“I’ll clean the table first, then I’ll catch up with you guys,” Soonyoung quickly pipes in, prompting Junhui to throw him a dirty look. _How dare you make us sacrificial lambs?_ He just smiles at his boyfriends, apologetic, then creeps back toward the kitchen.

Much like her son, Jihoon’s mother is a person of scarce words. They do the cleaning and washing together in relative silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Perhaps it has something to do with Soonyoung starting to get the hang of it—how to behave ideally in front of the others’ parents and all that. Jihoon’s is the last set, anyway. If he didn’t get anything from the previous two experiences, that’d be his fault.

“They told me you’re the cook of the household,” Jihoon’s mother says, handing him the last plate.

“Uh…” Soonyoung shakes the droplet of water from the surface of the plate onto the sink, then he wipes it over with the soft cloth. “I think Junhui cooks better than I do, but he does it far less often… so I don’t know where that leaves me.”

She washes her hand under running water and Soonyoung waits for her to finish so he can do the same, but she grabs his hands and pulls it beneath the tap, squirting some soap onto Soonyoung’s open palms.

“It leaves you as the capable set of hands that makes sure my Jihoonie is eating properly,” she says softly, massaging Soonyoung’s hand as though emphasising his point. “All that weight he’s put on.”

Ah. From a mother’s perspective, it would obviously be a good thing that their child is healthy, but Jihoon complains every other day that having Soonyoung cook most of his meals for him is a sure recipe for gluttony.

“The smiles he’s put on,” she adds, just as Soonyoung’s about to share Jihoon’s point of view. “I haven’t seen him smile like that around the house for a long time.”

His heart skips a beat.

Different to Junhui’s parents who divorced because they fell out of love with one another, Jihoon’s mother left his father because he wasn’t accepting of their son’s sexuality. The topic has always been a sensitive spot to Jihoon, like a wound that never heals despite being treated with great care. Over time, his boyfriends have reached a collective understanding to avoid said topic unless Jihoon brings it up first, and that was the consensus for today’s visit.

The problem is, Soonyoung can hear the underlying regret in her tone and it makes breathing slightly harder. In some ways, she must feel responsible for Jihoon’s heartache. How can he turn a blind eye and pretend like he doesn’t understand her, not offer comfort when she needs it most?

She moves away then, to dry her hands with paper towels. Soonyoung stands there, staring after her and deliberating what kind of response he’s allowed to give.

“May I teach you my mother’s kimchi stew recipe?” Jihoon’s mother turns to him, looking hopeful. She seems to have pulled herself out of the previous moment. “Jihoonie likes to have it whenever he’s feeling a bit down.”

“It’d—yes,” Soonyoung answers quickly, turning off the tap and walking towards her. “Yes. That would be such an honour.”

“The honour is all mine,” she says, smiling in such excess that her eyes disappear into lines. “Ah.”

She glances outside the kitchen window to the small shed in the backyard, where Soonyoung’s favourite boys are gathering around Jihoon’s enthusiastic old man.

“Now that I think about it, it might be yours too. Junhui’s probably inherited some fishing hooks by now.”

Soonyoung thinks she might be right, so he tells her that. They spend half an hour going through the recipe together, Soonyoung taking notes on his phone of which chilli paste brand to use and how much sesame oil to add into the stew. By the time they’re through, Jihoon’s father still hasn’t finished with his presentation yet, so Soonyoung asks if they can make teas and bring them outside for his boyfriends.

“Hey.” Wonwoo bounds over to him just as Soonyoung’s placing the tray above the small table on the back porch. He leans down to kiss Soonyoung, then smacks his lips a couple of times when he pulls away. “Oh, wow. You’re spicy.”

“My mouth taste spicy? It must be the _gochujang_ Jihoon’s mom had me try.”

“That, too.” He winks suggestively and Soonyoung wants to poke his eyes so badly, but in the end he only curls his fingers on Wonwoo’s collar and pulls him down to kiss him again.

“Soonyoung-ah!” Junhui’s father’s voice makes them jump apart. “Come, come! I don’t want you to miss this!”

“Duty calls,” he says sheepishly.

Wonwoo nods in agreement, lips pink and eyes dazed. “Duty calls.”

* * *

**Soonyoung**

* * *

“Eomma,” Soonyoung begins, snuggling closer to her on the couch.

She’s always run a tad warmer than he does and as a young boy Soonyoung liked that very much, being able to steal some of her body heat. These days he can only do it to Junhui, as both Wonwoo and Jihoon have ice running through their veins. How that's even possible, Soonyoung doesn’t know—especially when they have so much warmth in their beings.

“What is it?”

“Do you like them?” he rests his head on her shoulder.

His mother follows his line of sight to the slightly ajar garage door. Soonyoung can hear Jihoon’s faint laughter at something Junhui says, then the sound of an old motorcycle engine revving.

“Of course I do,” she reaches up to pat his cheek. “They’re wonderful boys.” They are, aren’t they? Soonyoung got so lucky with them, he’ll have nothing but misfortunes for the rest of his life. “Perfectly splendid for my own wonderful boy.”

He sighs a little upon hearing his mother’s answer, making her laugh in earnest, jostling Soonyoung along with her. “That doesn’t sound like a sigh of relief.”

“It’s just been much easier for them than it has for me,” Soonyoung admits easily, because that’s the kind of open and honest relationship he’s always had with her. “This entire break, I mean,” he clarifies when she gives him a questioning look. “Meeting the parents.”

Another set of laughter bursts through the door, this time Soonyoung's father’s. “I mean, look at Junhui! He’s fixing Appa’s motorcycle as we speak. I haven't been allowed to touch that baby since I was little.”

“That’s because you painted all over it with nail polish, Nyoungie,” his mother points out, tapping Soonyoung’s nose with her index finger. “Purple, sparkly ones.”

Okay. She might have a point there. Soonyoung recalls his younger self overflowing with creativity that needed to be channelled, and the motorcycle was just _there_ , the black polish job entirely too enticing of a canvas for him to pass on the opportunity of drawing on it.

“And I’m sure that isn’t true.”

Soonyoung frowns, unable to follow her train of thoughts. “What isn’t?”

“It’s not easier for them.”

“But they aren’t struggling.”

“How do you know?” His mother raises both eyebrows in part question, part challenge. “Do you tell them _you’re_ struggling?”

“I can’t do that.” Even the _idea_ of doing so doesn’t sit right with Soonyoung. “They’ll worry about me.”

His boyfriends have carried themselves with their heads up high through all the trials and tribulations the holiday season brings them. What does that make Soonyoung if he breaks under the same pressure the others have endured?

“Exactly,” his mother says, her tone matter-of-fact. Soonyoung’s frown deepens until she carries on. “Baby, they’re probably thinking the same thing you are. If they’re having a bit of trouble, they might just put on a brave face for your benefit and tough it out.”

“In that case—” as unlikely as it sounds to Soonyoung at the moment, “—wouldn’t it be better to share the load?”

“Of course it would. Perhaps you should start the conversation, then.”

Soonyoung lets the suggestion simmer until they return to their shared apartment. His father had tried to get them to stay the night, but Soonyoung’s room is still exactly the way he left it years ago: cramped and entirely too small even for him alone. They don’t have that many spare pillows and blankets to accommodate three additional grown men in the house either, so he bids his farewell to his parents with the promise of visiting again soon.

He thinks he’d make it until after they brush their teeth and slip beneath the weighted blanket Junhui bought in one of his online shopping crazes. Soonyoung plans on giving them time to wash up first, at least. Yes. He can do that, right? After all, his boyfriends have made his parents very happy today, so Soonyoung’s little crisis can wait a little longer.

His mouth seems to have a mind of its own, though. The moment the door closes and locks behind him, Soonyoung just blurts out, “I think your parents hate me.”

Wonwoo swivels around to face him, eyes as wide as saucers. “What? What makes you say that?”

“Wait,” Junhui jumps in. He throws the car keys into the bowl above the kitchen counter and makes his way to Soonyoung. “Whose?”

“Definitely not mine,” answers Jihoon automatically. He shrugs off his jacket like Soonyoung’s words aren’t alarming to him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks then, when Junhui and Wonwoo throw him identical warning looks. “You know I’m right. He’s a star with my parents. Dad couldn't shut up about his bone structure and Mom passed down our family recipe to him. Soonyoung’s the first partner who's gotten that kind of treatment, so it can’t be mine.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for his boyfriend to tone down their expression of disapproval, except Junhui is stubborn when he wants to be and Wonwoo is stubborn _always._ Jihoon might come out of it victorious if it weren’t for the fact that he’s head over heels for them, but Soonyoung knows better.

“Fine.” Jihoon rolls his eyes, pretending to be exasperated. “What is this about, hm?”

“Junhui’s dad thinks I’m _quiet_.”

“You’ve only met him once,” Wonwoo offers, but he’s gnawing at his bottom lip as though he sees exactly where Soonyoung is heading with this. “There’ll be other opportunities to get to know him better.”

“How?” he challenges Wonwoo. “I don’t speak Mandarin very well.”

“It’s—”

Soonyoung walks pass him to throw himself on the couch. He grabs one of the cushions and hugs it tight to his chest, willing the tears blurring his vision away. “And even when I do speak the same language, I can’t connect with yours the way Jihoon does.” This time when Wonwoo opens his mouth to reply, no sound comes out of him. “The way Junnie does.”

“Well,” Jihoon takes a seat beside him, “we’re already off to an awful start if you like to compare apples to oranges.”

“Seriously, Ji,” Junhui admonishes his boyfriend. “Read the room.”

“I am.”

“This isn’t one of those things you should compare.” He plucks the cushion out of Soonyoung’s hold and gathers Soonyoung’s body in his arms. “We have very different personalities. You can’t expect others’ reaction to be the same across the board.”

“He’s right,” says Wonwoo.

“I always am.”

“No, you’re not. But in this case, he’s right.”

Wonwoo moves to kneel next to the sofa. He fits himself between Soonyoung’s legs and splays a hand over his knee, giving him a light squeeze. Jihoon and Wonwoo may run cold themselves, but it’s flames they ignite inside Soonyoung just by giving him the simplest touch.

“For the life of me, I can’t keep up with Jihoon’s dad and his fishing terminologies. That’s why I ran to you when you brought out the teas.”

“Me neither,” admits Junhui next. He comes to stand behind Wonwoo and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Wonwoo’s mother started talking to me about this painter whose name I can't even remember now. I blanked out after the first thirty seconds. Didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop.”

His mother was right, after all. Not that Soonyoung can think of a time when she wasn’t.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” Soonyoung protests with difficulty. His words are muffled out by Jihoon’s shirt because of the way his cheek is squished against the younger’s chest. “We all should have.”

He angles his face upward, waiting for Jihoon to speak his turn, but Jihoon just gives return his gaze without saying anything.

“I already said I love you three times this week alone.” And that just now was an intentional fourth, Soonyoung notes idly. “I’m a hundred miles past my limit on sharing.”

“If it’s any consolation to you, my dad agrees with Junnie. You have the voice of an angel.”

“You’re just saying that,” Soonyoung sighs, burrowing himself deeper into Jihoon.

As a response, Wonwoo props himself on Soonyoung’s knee to lean closer, bridging the distance between them to kiss the older languidly. Soonyoung senses Jihoon’s hand on the back of his neck as they kiss, an unnecessary yet welcomed tour guide for his journey to deepen the exchange. He can see nothing but darkness with his eyes closed, but Soonyoung knows that Junhui remains connected to Wonwoo in all the ways that matter.

“I think that means he wasn’t just saying that,” Junhui looks down at Soonyoung when he breaks apart from the kiss. His fingers tangle in the dark locks near Wonwoo’s nape. “And neither was I.”

“Yeah.”

“Tomorrow will be better.” Junhui strokes his face with his free hand and Soonyoung’s eyelids feel heavy. “My brother likes you a lot, my mom’s adored you for a long time, and I especially love you. So my father’s going to be an easy win.”

“Yeah.”

Jihoon presses a kiss to his temple. “We got you.”

“I know.”

“And we’ll lean on each other more,” says Wonwoo, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“We will.”

Soonyoung has no idea who gets stuck with the job of transporting him from the living room to their bed, nor who wipes him down with a warm cloth, nor who strips him out of his winter wear and into his cotton pyjamas. What he does know, when he wakes up first the next morning with all of them crowded around him, is that he'd never drown.

How could he ever, when he has three great loves holding his head up above the water?

**Author's Note:**

> i actually made the mistake of reading the prompt as requesting it to be from this universe and then when i revisited the doc, it turned out to be free 96z prompts for both so i hope it's okay!!!
> 
> here's to eventually publishing that full-length chaptered 96z fic dusting in my draft <3
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/blminsmmr/status/1345358100530806785?s=21) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer)


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